For you, only for you
by Ninios
Summary: Sauron begins to feel something for Legolas. How to win his heart? And if Legolas is already in love with someone else, how could Sauron react? A very different story from what you usually read about them! SLASH! Please r/r! No flames!
1. Prologue

**Summary: **Sauron begins to feel something for Legolas. How to win his heart? And if Legolas is already in love with someone else, how could Sauron react? Enchanting him? Kidnapping him? Putting a spell on him? Or simply letting him go?

This is a very different story from what you are used to reading. It is a tale about romance, but also about sorrow and change. And you will see a completely new Sauron ... as I have always imagined him.

**Warnings: Slash**! Don't like it? Don't read it! **Sauron a bit OOC. What if. Slightly AU**. Check other warnings chapter by chapter.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, and I write just for fun, not for money.

**Author's Note: **I wanted to write a different story about Sauron/Legolas, and I really hope it is. Sauron is not an "eye", but is a "person". I played a bit with Legolas' age. He is younger, about one hundred years old.

My apologies to Tolkien's experts, because of changes I had to do for my ends. I know this story is not perfect, but please, appreciate my try to write something different!

I am an Italian girl, and this is my first English fanfiction, so **please** **be gentle with reviews**^^ And sorry for possible mistakes!

Thanks to greywings2, who beta-read the Prologue!

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**Prologue.**

Sauron was watching his Palantir intensely.

For days he did nothing but watch the images the sphere sent to him. So he stayed in the higher room of his fortress of Barad-dûr, where that treasure was guarded. It seemed to be his only connection with the outside world.

He looked away for a moment and sighed. The room, whose walls of deepest black in irregular slabs, polished like mirrors and reflected his distorted reflection, had become oppressive. He had grown impatient, as if Mordor was no longer enough to contain his power.

He approached the window and looked outside. The sight was terrifying. Screams, fire, blood, rocks. Orcs. He tightened his fist and hit the window jamb, repeatedly. That scene that always appeared before his eyes, which had once made him chuckle with delight in hearing cries of sheer desperation, seeing streams of blood flooding the roads, as smoke and black clouds darkened the sky, now simply disgusted him.

But why they provoked that reaction in him, he could not help but wonder. Why so suddenly? Why?

And the answer came, even if not immediately. The answer was given to him right from the Palantir, which he never stopped to observing until his eyes were consumed and tired. The answer was him. Those eyes. Deep blue sky, so full of sweetness, curiosity and tenderness. That hair. Fine and delicate threads of gold. That skin. Fair, that had to be smooth to touch and scented with luscious fragrance of flowers. That smile. Pure, naive, conveying warmth to anyone privileged to observe him. That body. Slender, slim, perfect.

Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, had kidnapped his own heart from the first moment.

His image haunted him. Wherever he looked, he saw him. In his dreams, he saw, him. While ordering his Orcs to torture, to kill, he saw him. And he could see his disappointed, frightened, angry look. Because he was the Dark Lord of Middle Earth. How else would Legolas have looked at him? That young and so innocent Elf that had always lived in light and beauty? He would have disapproved, despised, feared, hated him. These were always the feelings inspired by Sauron in everyone he met. Why would Legolas be different? Why would the Elf give him his smiles, hug him, graze his lips, whisper timid words of love, while those so rosy cheeks tinged of purple red with embarrassment? Why would that body hold him and be held, caress and touch where no one else has ever dared before, and be taken willingly, moaning his name in the heat of the absolute passion?

No, Sauron said, shaking his head. Legolas would never be his. He would never savour the sweet taste of his lips and never experience his perfect body trembling in his arms. A so sublime being would never have to turn down a look of sincere love for him.

Legolas, in the desolate lands of Mordor, was simply out of place. The light he radiated would soon be extinguished without the sun to kiss that golden hair. His eyes would become full of tears, and the smile that had captured him would no longer appear on his beautiful face, forming two soft dimples on the sides of his pure lips.

Sauron did not want the qualities that attracted him so much vanishing because of him. He did not want the Elf's innocence spoiling. He did not want that untainted heart marring by his selfishness.

No, he had to devise another trick in order to have him. But which one? Legolas seemed so unreachable. In his dreams, every time he tried to stretch a hand in order to touch him, his perfect image vanished among smoke rings and he grasped only emptiness.

But if he did not hurry Legolas' heart would be someone else's, and then he could do nothing but torture and kill the one who had dared kiss the Elf while holding him and taking him. The result of the little elf's pain and deep hatred fomented against him.

Sauron laughed to himself. To think at the beginning he had observed him just for curiosity! He had never seen in Middle-Earth someone with such limpid heart. He, who was so used to corruption, weakness and treachery of Men and Orcs, saw something, incredibly, that surprised him. At first, he had thought he would feel great pleasure to soil that heart, to fill it up with meanness and fear. To make it like everything he touched: tainted.

It would have been a great triumph for Sauron. He, who had everything, who had brought Middle-Earth into subjection and into an atmosphere of terror, who no longer felt any emotion, if not boredom and disgust for those who crossed his path. But at the end he was the subdued.

He began to wish that smile was only for him. Those eyes lowering shyly and those cheeks reddening as he was whispering in his pointy ears the most intimate and deep words. He did not want to believe that such a thing had happened. He repeated to himself thousands of times that it was only lust towards the Elf, and that it was his wish to break him as a way to make him believe it was something different. He tried to believe that he did not feel anything, that he would never feel anything. He attempted to find a perverse pleasure in hearing the Elf screaming in terror and panting under him, in contaminating the perfection of his body with the crueller instruments of torture, in being delighted to see him dying and covered with blood, or simply watching his look serenity turning and becoming filled with hate.

But he could no longer be deceived. He wanted Legolas, and he wanted him so desperately that he would have destroyed Middle-Earth for him.

He would have him.

**Author's Note: **So, what do you think? I know, I know… it looks like other fics about Sauron watching the Palantir, noticing Legolas, taking him to Mordor and living together happily ever after. But… It is not my story! Maybe at the beginning, but my plot is a bit more complicated than that. You will see just reading! So please let me know what you think, and if I can continue writing^^


	2. He was There

**Warnings: **Slash! Don't like it? Don't read it! Sauron a bit OOC. Check other warnings chapter by chapter.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, and I write just for fun, not for money.

Even in fanfiction "Give me a reason why" of Kuroi Atropos, Sauron is described with Red Eyes.

Honestly, I do not know if other stories used this feature. In this case, just let me know and I'll put it in credits in the next chapter!

**Author's Note: **I played a bit with Legolas' age, he is younger, about one hundred years old. And he is more "pure" than usual.

About Sauron as an Elf... I know he is a Maia, but in a text I have read (of course I can be wrong!) Tolkien described him precisely with those features (though not explicitly in the Silmarillion), when he tried to deceive People of Middle-Earth as Annatar. At least, I interpreted it that way! In any case, I always liked the idea of describing him like that... so here he is!

I am an Italian girl, and this is my first English fiction, so **please** **be gentle with reviews**^^ And sorry for possible mistakes!

Thanks to greywings2, who beta-read this chapter!

And thanks to who reviewed!

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**1. He was there. **

Sauron was analyzing his reflection in the mirror. The image that came back was beautiful and frightening.

A fall of wavy, bright and black hair, similar to the starless night, fell on his shoulders, ruffled, going to his hips. His skin was pale because of the long centuries passed without the Sun kissing him. His shoulders were broad, powerful, solid like the walls of Mordor, then tightening themselves more and more towards his thin waist.

But what made him so terrifying, even more than his chilling paleness, were his eyes. His eyes were as red as fire, and betrayed no kind emotion. Sauron frightened himself. They were so cruel and empty, yet always remained impassive, even while he decreed death sentences, killed, cheated, and made Middle-Earth a pile of burning ruins. The Dark Lord sighed bitterly. Legolas certainly would have been afraid.

He imagined his reaction, if their gazes met. That unnatural color made him monstrous, disgusting to the sight. He shook his head. No, he did not wish to see disgust in the Elf's eyes. It should have been remedied. Because he was Sauron, and was able to manipulate his appearance. Of course, his powers now were not even comparable to when he still wore the One Ring. But still, in any case, he remained one of the most powerful creatures of Middle Earth.

He narrowed his eyelids and concentrated hard. He whispered some words in the Black Language. Magic tired him almost immediately, but this effort was necessary. His knees almost gave way when he finished the Spell, but he remained standing erect, like a statue, to contemplate the result of his work.

The color of his eyes had changed. Now, they were clear blue, almost ice. It was not exactly what he wanted to obtain, but at least the tonality was more natural. Less like all the flames of hell had poured into those two globes.

He bent thin lips into a tiny smile, not his usual cruel sneer, but an expression of almost joy for the little success. This brought him closer, even if slightly, to his Elf. But he had to pay attention. If he lost control of his emotions, his eyes would come back as before.

Sauron, then, passed to examine his clothes. He wore a black velvet tunic that wrapped his body, betraying round lines and hints of muscles, making his figure more willowy and slender. The only decorations were golden thread around sleeves, neck and laces, but they were thin and almost nonexistent. Then, black trousers fell softly to the ankles, meeting low leather boots.

Sauron opened his arms a little and commented on his clothing to himself. They were so different from Legolas'. The Elf always dressed in the colors of nature, bright and shiny. He, instead, looked like a crow, whose wings spread out and swallowed everything that touched the shadows.

He should get more clothes, he thought, because all those he had were black, red, or dark grey.

He smiled again, but this time without joy. Rather, it was to mock himself. Was it possible that the Dark Lord, in all his immense Power, had trouble finding something to wear?

The situation was somehow funny, he did not deny it.

At last, he meditated on his hair. Elves had long hair, loose on their shoulders, often tied in elaborate braids, to show the evidence of the delicate tips of ears. Sauron raised an eyebrow. His hair was just wild. Sure, it was carefully combed, but in any case it remained wavy. To tame that flowing, rebellious hair would not be easy.

In the end, he opted for the simpler solution. He tightened his hair in a tail, leaving it completely uncovered for his pointed ears.

Because that was the form he had chosen centuries ago to show himself to the world. The features of an Elf.

He smiled for the third time, now with satisfaction. He was ready. It was time to meet Legolas.

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The journey from Mirkwood to Mordor seemed endless. The place was far and the only company he had was his horse, but it was not very talkative, of course.

Thus, in the long silence, the only thing he could do was brood.

It was true, he looked flawless, like a respectable person, despite his gloomy clothing. He repeated many times the story that would justify his presence, and he judged it credible. Above all, no one could confirm it, and although questions were raised, because of some blemish, there was no way to find out the truth.

But all this meant nothing, and would have meant nothing, if Legolas had accepted him. How many possibilities were there to gain his trust? Sauron was charismatic and charming, but the gimmicks that had succeeded on the others would probably not work on this pure heart.

This time, he could not help but laugh at himself, and he did so loudly. He looked like a boy struggling with his first crush. Oh, how deep he was in! He had left Mordor, causing disappointment and bewilderment to his army. He was so nervous and tense, as if his life depended on Legolas' word. Simply, it seemed that for which he had fought, had lost value. If Legolas did not appreciate him, he would slip back into the abyss. It was his last hope of redemption.

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Days passed. The borders of Mirkwood were next by now. Sauron dismounted and led his horse to a stream to let him drink. A sudden gust of wind violently made his cloak wave. He didn't care as much, because he was accustomed to the breath of Mordor, hot and stuffy, impregnated with ash and blood and death. By comparison, this was a breeze, fresh and soft.

He took a flask, knelt on the edge of the stream and plunged it into the water to fill it up. His gaze was immediately drawn to some petals floating on the water's surface. The scent could be smelled even from where he was at, and that purple was so intense that anyone would have noticed it.

He was not alone. He jumped up and threw the flask on the ground. He ran to his horse and grabbed the sword, but still left it in its scabbard.

Probably some Elves were picking flowers, and the wind had lifted and thrown the petals into the water.

He could not risk to be attacked. Not now that Mirkwood was so near. He would have to hit them first. So, with light steps, he hid among the trees and went over the stream. He prepared himself to unsheathe his sword near the glade.

But what he saw took away his breath. Not the beautiful purple flowers that were spread like carpet on the grass. Not diamonds of dew which made the place shine when the sun's rays beamed through the branches. Not the trees, high and mighty. Not green leaves and ripe fruit. Not the sweet and intense aroma exhaled from that pleasant shelter.

Him. He was kneeling on the grass, ready to pick the most beautiful and perfumed flowers, showing no sign of having noticed Sauron' presence. He was smiling, drawing up his face to smell the fragrance of a flower. His body seemed to shine a light of his own, as if to express his well-being and find himself dipped in nature. His hair, thin strands of gold silk, caught the rays of sunlight and made them even more shiny. His cheeks were rosy porcelain, as if he had to run to recover fugitive flowers flown in the wind.

And suddenly, the Dark Lord realized he was inadequate in that place of beauty and peace. He, who was not accustomed to light, was now immersed, and felt almost forced into a narrow prison. He was now surrounded by trees, which seemed to want to choke him, as revenge for having been so long denied.

But he was there. He could not look away from that wonderful creature, so surrealistic to seem like merely a fruit of his imagination. But he was there. With innocent gestures, he was gathering flowers and adding them to the bunch, unaware of his presence. Yes, he was there. He could have reached out and have grabbed him, but he was too afraid of being in one of his dreams, and Legolas would have been dissolved as usual. He, who he had longed for, was now only a few, little steps away. He was there.

And unexpectedly, Legolas raised his fair head and crossed his gaze with his own. Nothing was comparable to the beauty of those blue eyes, wandering with a mixture of surprise and curiosity towards his own, dazed and overwhelmed and opened wide in front of so much wonder.

The Elf's body seemed to relax at his sight. Sauron scowled. Legolas did not have to fear the presence of a stranger? Armed, in addiction?

But Legolas remained calm, kneeling among the flowers, now extending a welcome smile and whispering, with a crystal clear and melodious voice, as if conversing with an old friend: "I thought you were one of my Father's guards that had come to fetch me. He has forbidden me to go out of the borders of Mirkwood. He believes I am too young to leave the Kingdom."

Then the elf added, biting his lower lip. "I have rarely seen a foreigner. Adar does not like the presence of guests roaming the woods. He fears that they might steal our secrets. You should leave. You risk to meet one of the sentinels." Legolas' eyes were now concerned, though not for his presence, but because he was anxious about him.

Sauron opened his mouth to answer, but he was immediately interrupted by a huge pain in his shoulder.

"Prince Legolas, get away!" an Elf yelled behind him. The Dark Lord was pierced by an arrow. What imprudence! With his developed senses, he would have noticed the guards and dodged the dart. But dazzled by the Legolas' sight, he forgot the surrounding world and he let himself get hurt, like any Man in the first battle. The ache was deep indeed, and it was accentuated by a second arrow, this time directly to his leg. At that point, he failed to stand up and sank. He would have fallen to the ground, if two slender hands had not supported him.

"Stop!" Legolas yelled. Sauron's surprise was greater than his pain. The Elf was helping him. For the first time, throughout his long life, someone was helping him.

"The stranger was not doing anything wrong, you have no right to attack! Nimtiriel, order your warriors to lower their bows!"

Legolas was holding him up from his hips with one arm, while Sauron's was around his shoulder. In the meantime, they had exchanged their places, so that the Elf was shielding him with his body. The guards would not dare to throw other arrows and risk hitting the boy.

"Prince, it is bad enough that you sneaked out of the Palace and came outside the borders of Mirkwood! Leave this stranger to his fate, and come back to your Father!"

Sauron felt his anger boiling. He clenched his fists and shut his eyes, trying to calm down. Losing control right now would have made his efforts useless. But he could not accept the arrogant tone of that Elf. If Nimtiriel had known who he really was, the elf would have fled screaming. But he could not afford to show his Powers. Not in front of Legolas.

Thus he spoke, his voice calm and deep. "Clearly my presence is not pleasant. I'll take my horse and I'll go away from these lands. You don't need to fear anything from me."

"You cannot go! You are seriously injured and ..." Legolas exclaimed suddenly.

But his sentence was interrupted by Nimtiriel, who mockingly said: "We have nothing to fear from you, stranger. If I am not mistaken, you're not the one who is wielding a bow! "

It was too much. Sauron was enraged. He had killed people for much less and that Elf was putting a strain on his patience, that you knew, was indeed little.

But Legolas' firm voice brought him back to reality. "And if _I_ am not mistaken, _you_ are not Prince. _You _can not give me orders." He said to Nimtiriel. He was young, but he was proud and aware of his lineage. "This foreigner is under my protection. None of you will hurt him. Instead, you will help me take him to the Palace, where he can be properly healed. And you can only pray that he will forgive damages you caused to him."

Sauron was bewildered. He did not understand why Legolas was so stubborn and helped him risking to go against his own people's will. But above all, he did not understand why he felt a pleasant feeling to his heart, such as lightness. Throughout his life, he lived alone, avoiding to trust others, and he had always been to protect himself. Till now it had always been thus, and he had been accustomed. And now, here that so young, so stubborn, so innocent Elf, that barely reached his shoulder, ready to defend him. He did not understand, but he did not care. Legolas was there, and it was all he needed.

**Translation:**

Adar: Father

Nimtiriel: White Sentinel.


	3. Because he was amused

**Warnings: **Slash! Sauron a bit OOC. What if. Slightly AU.

**Disclaimer: **see Prologue and Chapter One.

**Author's Note: **I played a bit with Legolas' age, he is younger, about one hundred years old. And he is more "pure" than usual. And please, keep in mind Sauron is OOC, but some parts of his temper are the same!

My **apologies** if I took this much to update my story! But I am writing it and translating it, and that requires time.

**Feedback: **Yes, please! I'd love to know what do you think about my story! But please, be gentle!

**Thanks** to everybody who r/r, added to favourites, to alerts… I am grateful! And thanks to my Beta-Reader greywings2!

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**2. Because h****e was amused. **

Sauron opened his eyes slowly. Flames of the candles on the walls danced with the breeze blowing through the window. It was now evening and the stars were peeking through the clouds.

He examined the room. It was wide and well ventilated. Typically Elven. The walls were covered with tapestries, representing the armies of those who were part of the Last Alliance. He recognized them immediately. It was good that no one knew his true face.

The only ones that could perhaps find out, were now few. Surely Elrond, Glorfindel, Galadriel, Celeborn and Thranduil, were the only ones old enough to have met him in the guise of Annatar, when he attempted to deceive the Elves. The others were either killed in battle or had sailed to Valinor.

After he was unmasked by Gil-Galad, the war was started and lost. At the end, he had to hole up in Mordor and had not gone out anymore. His eyes had begun to change color from brooded anger, which devoured him from within like a fire that never went out, and from the mutilation he had suffered when part of his soul had been torn along the Ring.

However, the only real danger was now the King of Mirkwood, but he would probably not deign to grant him a hearing. If he did, he could always subdue him and change memories about his features. A transformed memory remained such, and could hardly resurface, especially if mind was weak. The effort would consume much of his energy since he was now deprived of the Ring, but he had no choice.

He sighed in resignation then, and turned around. Beside the bed where he was laying, there was a bedside table with a pitcher, goblet and a box that seemed to contain bandages and other medicines. His sword was lying on a table. On one of the chairs, his robe was carefully folded. Sauron turned to his waist and noticed that his shoulder had been bandaged. He tried to move his arm and he was deliver a stich of pain.

Sauron was immortal, but he could still be hurt and feel pain, though his wounds healed quickly, even faster than Elves'. Without the One Ring, however, he felt very vulnerable. Fortunately, as long as the jewel existed, he could preserve his magic, although it greatly reduced. And if that was destroyed, he would simply become an Elf like everyone else.

His thoughts, however, were interrupted. Legolas had just entered the room, with a smile, and approached the bed.

"You're up, I'm happy!" the Elf exclaimed. "You fainted when we took you here. You had lost much blood..." he said, then with a small voice and obvious embarrassment he added. "I'm sorry I took your tunic off, but I had to bandage the wound. And I'm sorry I cut part of your pants to bind the leg..."

"Was it you that healed me?" Sauron asked, without looking away from the Elf.

He nodded. "You will be given other clothes, as soon as you are better..."

"Do not worry, I'm not angry. I could not be. You saved my life, you took me here, going against your People. I hope this will not create trouble." Sauron said excitedly.

Legolas shook his head. "No, I talked with my Father and my elder brother. They are making an exception, because you're an Elf, and because I took responsibility for your actions. You can stay here while you're injured, but then you need to leave. And..." he paused, throwing a quick glance at the sword on the table. "Obviously you will remain unarmed."

"Obviously," Sauron repeated. "So, why is my weapon still there?" He added with a faint smile.

"Because..." Legolas bit his lip and looked down. "I dared to remove it from the scabbard and observe it...I have never seen a weapon that was not forged by Elves..."

"Who says that it is not?" Sauron asked abruptly, stiffening and letting the smile fade.

"I..." the younger male stepped back at the sudden change of mood of the interlocutor, always looking down. "I'm sorry, I should not have, I know that a weapon is sacred to his owner."

Sauron frowned. Where was the indomitable courage that had been shown with Nimtiriel a short while ago? Perhaps, Legolas felt confident only with his subordinates? No, the reason was different. He felt hesitation from the young one, which is what one could have with a person they just met, and insecurity, as if he were not used to talking in a context outside of Court Ceremonial and afraid to say or do something wrong.

"No, forgive me." Sauron finally said. "Hold the sword if you desire, and watch how much you want. Anyway, you are only half right. I've been forging my weapon."

Legolas raised his head and stared. "Really? Are you a blacksmith?" He asked with the curiosity of a child.

"Something like that, yes," Sauron answered, unable to hold back a laugh. He had forged that sword recently since his old weapons were only too familiar. He had forged something else, so many centuries ago ...

"It's wonderful! The inlays are so elaborate! But it is not only beautiful on the outside. It is perfectly balanced, and it is also very light, and the blade is the sharpest!" Legolas continued with enthusiasm. "But why am I only half-right?" he asked suddenly, forgetting the transport of before.

"I'm glad you appreciate my work. Anyway, to answer your question, I am a Half-Elf," Sauron said with a slight smile.

"Amazing! Your features are identical to an Elf's!" Legolas said, talking without taking breath. "I met only another Half-Elf, Elrond. Have you ever met him?"

The Dark Lord stiffened, hearing that name. Yes, he had known him, and not in pleasant circumstances. "No," He said finally, shaking his head. "I could have chosen to remain Mortal, or to preserve my Immortality. I opted for the second choice." He sighed, then continued. It cost him to lie to Legolas, but there was no other way. If he wanted to be accepted and not be feared, this was the only other option." My mother was Mortal, and my Father was an Elf. He hid my birth to your People. I never knew whether from pride or shame. In any case, when my mother was alive he came to visit and taught me to fight and speak Elvish. After her death, I left the village where I grew up and never saw my Father again. Men envied me, because I remained forever young. Elves despised me, because I am not considered their equal. So I decided to wander around Middle-Earth in solitude, hiding my identity. When we first met, it was simply one of my pilgrimage. I feared being attacked when I found out that someone was near, and without realizing it, I got too close to your borders. I was very careless..."

Legolas approached and put a thin hand on his shoulder. "This is very sad... but I do not understand... Elrond is a Half-Elf, and he is loved and respected by all. Why are you not granted the same?"

"This is what I've always wondered..." Sauron said, glancing towards the Elf. "I guess for your Elrond situation was different. But now I can not get answers. My Father sailed for Valinor. From that day on, I have regretted my choice to remain immortal. This world does not want me, I am an aberration..." The last sentence was the only truth, among other falsehoods, he thought bitterly. And then, he wished that he was not. He did not feel worthy to stay near the Elf, not after having lied so shamelessly.

Legolas started, bringing him back to reality. He sat on the bed and took Sauron's hand into his, wetting it with tears. This was not the effect sought. He had made him cry. He had made that sweet creature cry, and for what? For a well-concocted lie.

"Do not shed tears for me," Sauron whispered guiltily, raising the non-injured arm and gently wiping the younger Elf's face with his thumb.

"How can I not?" The other said, sobbing. "You did not deserve this. Years and years of loneliness, forced to grope for Middle-Earth without a fixed dwelling, with no one to feel love for you..." The sentence died in his throat.

"Please, my Prince, I do not want your pity," he said, trying to rise from bed, but in vain.

Legolas noticed it, and immediately helped him sit. "Please do not call me that... simply call me Legolas..."

Sauron smiled bitterly. "And you can simply call me Golwen." He sighed, then changed topic, hoping to stop that crying. "You have not yet said why you helped me."

The Elf looked down and wiped his tears with the back of the sleeve, while the other hand was still holding Sauron's. "Because... I could not let you die... it would not have been fair..." he stammered.

This was not an answer. He knew there was something else. He clearly could feel the tumult in the Elf's heart. He brought his face close to the young. Thus, he could feel his breath, now irregular, and his face gave off heat, red with embarrassment for such closeness. "Why?" He repeated, in a peremptory tone.

"I ..." Legolas began, backing away slightly and leaving Sauron's hand. "I guess… because you did not deserve to die. You did nothing wrong. You were simply too close to the border, but without bad intentions..."

"How can you be sure? Mirkwood guards did not seem to be trusting of your own opinion," Sauron whispered, his face still close, bridging the gap just created. It was the first time that someone addressed similar words. He did not have bad intentions? He had entered the Kingdom by fraud, had concealed his identity, told a false story. How naive could this little Elf be? But then he asked himself: what if he's right? What if there was still something good in him, and only Legolas could see it? If only he were truly watching him and Sauron found out that he could still be saved. If he could find out that there was a hope...

"I..." he murmured, this time standing still. "Your eyes are not evil." throwing a quick glance.

Sauron could not resist. He laughed, and sank into bed. He laughed heartily, without malice, simply because he wanted to. Because he was _amused._

"Did I say something wrong?" Legolas whispered, if possible even more embarrassed.

The other shook his head. "No, just..." He reached out and touched his red cheek. "Your purity is disarming... If you had asked Sauron to not forge the One Ring, he could not." He did not know why he had pronounced that sentence. Would it have been really so? If Legolas had asked him to give up all his Power, would he have gone along?

But he did not know the answer. He only knew that he now wanted to gain the other's trust, be accepted as he was, and not be judged for the name he carried and the deeds committed in the past. And perhaps one day be loved, even if Legolas would only love the character he created. Anyway, in retrospect, his story was not entirely invented. It was true that he was hiding. It was true that he was alone. Who knows, if he told the truth, maybe he would be forgiven. Maybe.

"Do not tease me," Legolas whispered, interrupting his thoughts.

Sauron's hand was still resting on his cheek. The Elf didn't withdraw, and this made him smile. "I would never… I understand why your Father does not want you to come out of Mirkwood. Your heart is too clear for this corrupt world. Obviously he does not want it to be dirtied by people with unworthy hands. They would tear it from your chest and they would break it, and once satisfied, they would give it back to you irremediably tainted..." He repented of his sentence. It was too harsh, in fact, he felt the Elf shaking with a chill.

"I am sorry, it was too cruel a image..." Sauron shook his head, guilty, lowering his hand. Basically he wanted that heart, and eagerly.

"No, I'm fine," Legolas whispered. "I have always thought that my Father considered me too inexperienced and silly to survive out of Mirkwood. I have never taken a trip..." he left half the sentence, sadness overcame him. He wished to travel more than anything else. Curiosity was a feature that he had had since childhood.

Sauron noticed it and said "No, my young friend, I think you're wrong. Your Father thinks you're not a fool. He trusted your opinion of me, right?" He waited for a nod of Legolas, then he continued. "He does not doubt your insight, and he knows that you would never put at risk your people by letting a foreigner with bad intentions in, even if overcome by compassion. I am sure he was very proud to see you animated and firm in your position. You behaved like a Prince." He cursed himself for each word. It was all a lie, and if Legolas discovered the truth, he would not be given peace for letting the Dark Lord cross the borders of Mirkwood.

"Sometimes I do not want to be a Prince," Legolas whispered. "If I was not, I would be free to go where I wish..."

"No, I don't think so. Your Father would not love you less if you were not a Prince, and would not stop worrying and take care of you." He turned his head sadly at the window. "Also, look at me! _I _can go where I wish, but do I look happy about this?" No, another lie. He was not free to go wherever he wanted. He was also one of the many prisoners of Mordor. However, the Elf's prison was the opposite of his.

Legolas stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. "You're right, forgive me. I spoke out of turn. I should not despise my luck. My Father, my brother and my People love me, and only want the best for me. It's just that people are so condescending to me... no one dares to contradict me and they don't speak frankly. It seems that they deem me too fragile as a glass doll... But you... you talk to me as my equal, but not with presumption. You do not look for my favour or my Father and my brother's favour. You do not treat me like a Prince..." he finished the sentence with a shy smile. The redness had spread to the tips of his ears.

No, Sauron did not care about the privileges of the Court. It was not what he wanted. He just wanted Legolas. If the Elf had been a Prince or a beggar, it would be the same. He wanted only to protect that heart, and avoid being hurt. But could he protect Legolas from himself? He shook his head. Fate did not lack a sense of humour. Legolas was not contradicted because of too much love. Sauron because of too much hate.

"Not really fragile," he said, smiling. "You have shown me that you are strong. I would not be here otherwise. I would say... How can I make you understand..." he paused, to look for the right words. "Imagine a white sheet. Imagine that for fear of being dirty, it is always kept in a closet. Then one day, the closet is opened, and the sheet used. Imagine it being stained with ink. The sheet is still intact, but the stain is still there. It can be washed, but it will never be as white as before." He laughed to himself at that example, which was simply ridiculous. He was not addressing to a child! He was talking like one of those desperate women when they could not remove the stain from fabrics.

"However, the sheet can not always stay in the closet... it could feel useless..." Legolas whispered. At least _he _liked the example, apparently.

"Then the sheet should convince his owner that is ready to be used..." Sauron smiled.

"How?"

"With patience. And showing that you can be alright alone in any situation. You are still young, Legolas. It is normal that you want to explore unknown lands. But believe me, this world is not that much. You have not lost anything worth seeing. Your Father knows, and he wants to spare you disappointment." Sauron ended bitterly.

"But there are still wonderful places... Elrond told me about Imladris... and I heard tales about Lothlorien..." Legolas said with dreamy eyes.

"They have nothing that you do not have here..." the other replied, shaking his head.

"Well, you agree with my Father! Both of you want to ruin my fun of exploring Middle-Earth!" The younger whispered with a sullen air.

Sauron smiled. "Not at all. I am so disillusioned, because I saw much, _too much_, to believe that there is still something untouched..." and he would have added "Until I met you... " But he kept this sentence for himself.

"So why not sail to Valinor?" the Elf asked.

"Because I do not wish to meet my Father, again," Sauron explained, cutting the sentence. "Anyway, I'm still waiting for your reply. Why did you save me?"

"I answered..." Legolas said with a questioning gaze.

"It was not the answer your heart wanted to give me," Sauron sneered.

"Well... I told you, I never left the Kingdom..." Then he corrected himself, remembering a few hours ago. "Or at least I never strayed too far... You are the first foreigner I have seen and that I have not met in the Court, in its rigid ceremonial, and who is not a friend of my Father. I was terribly intrigued at first. Then, when I realized you were in danger, I just acted _instinctively_..." the Elf sighed. It seemed that the other could read his mind.

He almost guessed right. Sauron, after the loss of the Ring, could feel the emotions in others' hearts and snatch some shred of thought. He used this ability without hesitation, of course. He did not need a spell, it was simply one of his senses, much like how one could taste or touch, so he did not waste precious energy. It was a _natural thing_ for him.

"See? It was not that difficult..."Sauron said with a grin, amused.

Legolas smiled back, a smile that left him stunned. The light that the Elf emanated at that time was clear and dazzling. Pure joy invaded him, while those thin lips arched, revealing precious dimples that were so tender and sweet.

As a first meeting, it had gone beyond Sauron's wildest expectations. Sure, he was wounded, and that Nimtiriel had irritated him, but Legolas began to trust him, he warned him clearly. He was surprised how much the Elf appreciated the side that was rather despised by others. His piercing tongue. It was true, he was harsh, and again Legolas was embarrassed, but he was not bothered, disturbed or frightened. He rather liked his frankness and answered back with sincerity. He was also surprised how he managed to keep his voice calm and peaceful, at least almost always.

He had dreamed of their first encounter many times, and all ended with Legolas terrified in a corner, and with himself so irritated that raised his voice too much, or that he 'mistakenly' killed someone in anger. But none of this had happened. His fears of losing control were unfounded. The Elf, apparently, had a beneficial effect on him. His closeness was enough to pacify his spirit.

Everything was going in the best way, Sauron repeated to himself.

Suddenly, someone knocked at the door. Legolas got out of bed and went to open it. Sauron was angry when he saw the Elf away. He wanted to take him by the wrist and bring Legolas closer to himself, hug him, and still see that sweet blush on his cheeks appear...

He sighed and shook his head as if to calm himself, then leaned toward the table with his intact arm to pour water into the goblet.

"I came to take the sword and make sure the of injured's conditions. I do not understand why you did not want to entrust him to me ... do you not trust my skills as a healer anymore?" A deep and warm voice said. It did not sound like an Elf's voice, but a Man's. And indeed he was. He had dark brown hair and a hint of a beard, and eyes of a very light blue, almost grey. But he was wearing Elven clothing. Sauron began to drink casually, looking at the intruder with an annoyed gaze, then he started to watch the beloved Elf.

The Man suddenly encircled Legolas' waist and kissed him tenderly on his cheek. The other blushed, and replied with a shy and quick kiss on the lips. With this, the Elf went away from him to take the sword and give it to his mate. But his arm was in midair. Something distracted him.


	4. The opportune moment

**Warnings: **Slash! Sauron a bit OOC. What if. Slightly AU.

**Disclaimer: **see Prologue and Chapter One.

**Author's Note: **I played a bit with Legolas' age, he is younger, about one hundred years old. And he is more "pure" than usual. And please, keep in mind Sauron is OOC, but some parts of his temper are the same!

**Feedback: **Yes, please! I'd love to know what do you think about my story! But please, be gentle!

Thanks to everybody who r/r, added to favourites, to alerts… I am grateful! And thanks to my Beta-Reader silverfirefox1989!

**IMPORTANT NOTE: **I'll be on Holiday for a couple of weeks, so I'll answer to reviews and pms when I come back!

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**3. The** **Opportune Moment.**

Legolas spun around. What made him turn, was the sound of something splintering. Indeed, the glass from which Sauron was drinking, shattered, scattering the fragments into his left hand and between the covers.

The Dark Lord's eyes were wide open. He felt his blood accelerate and breathing become labored. He felt his eyes burning and his hands trembling while he tightened his fists. He wanted to get up at that moment; to jump and stab that Man repeatedly with his sword, until his body had become an unrecognizable shred of skin. How dare that Mortal? How dare that wretched little Man grab the Elf's light with so much tenderness? His knuckles were white and now his nails had penetrated the flesh, making him bleed more. It was also bleeding because in heat, he had embedded some of the fragments deeper into his hand.

Legolas let out a soft cry of distress before running to him, alarmed. He took Sauron's hand and a clean cloth from the box on the nightstand. He dipped it into the jar and began to rub gently to wash away the blood, occasionally pulling out a piece of glass from his flesh.

Sauron never even noticed it. He kept his grim, frightening gaze on that Mortal, and he, in return, strongly returned that look. Then suddenly, the Man's expression changed. He opened his eyes wide and frowned. What he saw was not clear. Was it possible that the foreigner's eyes had turned red?

Sauron noticed the change of expression in the Human's face almost immediately. He seemed to examine him with suspicion. He also noticed the mortals' change in mood. When that Man entered the room, Sauron felt calmness coming from him, so the Dark Lord had deliberately ignored him, because he was not a threat. Then, a sudden change, as soon as the Mortal encircled his arms and kissed _his_ Elf: a fire, which wanted to devour every part of the other's body.

Sauron felt it, as if that fire was burning himself, too. He had also received the Human's vain attempt to repress it, because it was consuming him.

If he had been a being like the others, even the Dark Lord would be deceived by the mask deftly shown to him, one with a quiet smile and a temperate calm.

What left Sauron completely stunned, was what he could feel from Legolas. That same fire was returned whole-heartedly.

Suddenly, the Dark Lord felt a sharp pain in his chest. He feared that his wound had reopened, but he did not dare check. He closed his eyes, suspecting that the Man had seen too much. Sauron realized he was clutching a piece of cloth with his non-wounded hand, trying to appease his anger. He was still breathing irregularly. Even the Elf's gentle touch was not having any effect.

But the opportune moment would arrive. He could for wait the Man in a dark corridor and could break his neck with impressive ease. No, he thought. Better something more cunning. Something that would delight the Dark Lord's perverse desire.

Yes! A Spell of Fire! But Sauron changed his mind almost immediately. It would have been nice, and the ensuing screams were quite pleasing to hear, but the Man's agony would last too short a time. The human body was so damn _fragile_! And he risked burning down the Palace! Not that he cared, but it would be very annoying, having to explain that he had _accidentally _brought a candle too close to the curtain.

Here! The Dark Lord would subdue his mind, he would torture him... Oh yes! Sauron licked his lips at the thought. Yes, the Man begging for mercy, covered in blood ... Yes! It would be so _fun_! First Sauron would show him horrific images coming from Mordor... he would let him hear the more chilling lamentations of those which you cannot forget! Of those that take up at night and hope that the next are not yours... he would show his worst fears... and he would laugh, while the Man was writhing on the floor, while his brain was torn... he would destroy him completely.

Yes, it was a perfect plan. The Dark Lord would drive him insane slowly, enjoying every terrified expression, every shiver, every prayer, every cry of despair...

There would not be anything left in that body. It would be an empty shell, and Legolas did not know what to do with a useless burden. Sauron was pleased with himself for the masterpiece that was about to create. He had to make a huge effort not to grin.

The desire for that sweet moment was the only thing that stopped the Dark Lord from killing him immediately. Moreover, he did not want Legolas seeing him in that condition. Sauron had done all this for him, had come this far for him, and was _also_ stopping himself from cruelly eliminating the Elf's... the Elf's _lover_. He was demonstrating an unprecedented clemency! And especially, if that Man became insane, who would doubt him? Madness was something slow, shrewd. The Dark Lord would make it seem natural, he just needed a little more time. Killing the Mortal, or subduing him to physical torture, would raise questions upon questions, and everyone would immediately suspect Sauron, an unwelcome foreigner.

Legolas, meanwhile, was picking up other slivers of glass out of bed, being careful not to injure himself. He wrapped them in a cloth and put it on the table. Then, he turned to Sauron and said, sounding hesitant. "We must change the blanket, it is wet from the water..."

The Man, who hadn't taken his eyes off of the stranger, recording his every move, was now looking at Legolas and had surrounded his waist, as if to emphasize that the Elf was _his_.

Sauron, finally opened his eyes, which were again normal, now that he had calmed down. He tried to remain expressionless at the Man's obvious effort to make him uncomfortable. He was still clutching the sheets.

Tension in the room was becoming unbearable. It seemed that almost everyone, was ready to slay each other at any moment.

It was Legolas who first broke the silence. "It's a shame that you two had to meet with an accident..." he said, obviously tense and impatient, for the situation and for the public outpouring. Evidently, they were accustomed to discretion or secrecy, even.

But the Man seemed to treat Sauron like if he did not consider him as his equal, but an animal or even a piece of furniture, so he could afford to show the Elf all the passion he wanted. But it was not just that. Human experience had suggested him that the glass was not broken by an accident. He saw the foreigner's gaze towards Legolas and he did not like it at all. The Mortal had to let him know that the Elf was already bonded to him. And then... the red eyes. Had he seen well, or was he simply mistaken? No, the Man was sure of what he saw, even if it had been just a flash, quickly hidden when the foreigner had closed his eyelids.

"Estel, he is Golwen. Golwen, he is Estel…" then, in a whisper, Legolas added: "My mate..."

Sauron could see a glimmer of triumph in the Man's eyes. But he still remained expressionless. The Dark Lord would not give him an opportunity to be incited. Legolas was certainly on the side of the other one, he was his mate, after all, and Sauron was a stranger. But Men were easy to anger, he knew it well. It would not be difficult to tease him until he exploded. And then, the Man would be wrong. Sauron was accustomed to this kind of game, while Estel seemed all too fair, at first sight, but not too stupid. He should act with cunning. So, with renewed perfidy, the Dark Lord said, sarcastically: "Enchanted."

Estel brought the Elf closer to himself. He must be really insecure, Sauron thought, if he was afraid that Legolas abandoned him for the first passing stranger.

Then he began to reflect. One was immortal, the other was not. Once the Man had died, the Elf would be condemned to eternal pain, or be eaten to death. The rest of Mirkwood's People were not to be excited about this union, especially since Legolas was a Prince, was very young and his family seemed to hold him beyond imagination.

We must also say that the Elf was beautiful, and probably attracted suitors like honey with bees. He was a creature too high for him, and the Man was certainly aware of it.

Estel did not know whether to let him go, giving him a chance to survive, or give in to selfishness, and keep him, but with two constant fears. Fear of what might happen during their marriage, that the Elf was aware of having made the biggest mistake of his life, allowing himself to a mere Mortal. And fear of what might happen after his death, condemning Legolas to suffer the same fate.

The Man must feel constantly threatened by a thousand thoughts. But you know, Men are weak, and this one was not to be outdone. He would rather live his life with the Elf, silencing his remorse. And Sauron would have played with these fears. He would have amplified his guilt so much, that there would probably not even be a need to make him crazy at all. Estel would have made the right choice and Legolas would leave him for a more worthy mate.

Yes, the strategy was simple. Stirring the Man's wrath when the occasion allowed, only to enjoy his reaction. Slowly, then, he would make him insane with his powers, to the point he pushed the Elf away from him. He did not care if he wasted energy. He would die rather than allow Legolas to a mere Mortal.

"I'm sorry for the _accident_..." Sauron said finally. "I held taken the glass very tightly and I was surprised to see a Man among Elves... I must have lost control..." then he lowered his head and took the opportunity to check the wound on his shoulder. He had not reopened it! But then, what was the pain of before?

"Do not worry, it was just a glass..." Legolas said, waving his hand. "I will call someone to change the sheet..."

Sauron bowed his head slightly, then Legolas spoke again. "Do you wish to eat anything before you sleep?"

"No... I'm not hungry." The Dark Lord said with low tone. "But thanks."

The Elf nodded. "Well, see you tomorrow... rest well!" He said, ending in a jovial tone.

"I will." He replied, watching Estel with a grim look, taking Legolas' hand and leading him out of the room, while glancing back triumphantly.

At that moment, Sauron wanted to yell. He needed something to kill, to maim, to torture... something, anything!

But he was not a Man. He was the Dark Lord. And to wait patiently was one of his peculiarities. He had waited for the right moment to deceive the Elves in the guise of Annatar. The Nine was subjugated to his will. He had almost conquered Middle-Earth, had it not been for Isildur, who had taken away his beloved Ring.

Sauron sighed. His Ring. His precious. It was there, somewhere, calling him. Whispering in his ear to come and pick it up. It was doing everything to be found, to return to him... one with him. A part of his soul. He would wait patiently, knowing that the time would come. When he had worn it again, it would be the end for Middle-Earth. He would regain his old powers. And that wretched Man would please to take the Elf for saving his life.

Sauron grinned. The opportune moment would come.

**Author's Note**: I hope Sauron is not nasty right now, but he had to behave like that. He is still him, even if he is in love! But please, trust me, I am sure you will not be disappointed!


	5. I know what I saw

**Finally back home with a new chapter...**

**Warnings: **Slash! Sauron a bit OOC. What if. Slightly AU. Here Hurt/Comfort. Also Aragorn a bit OOC. I do not know how he could behave in a situation like this… who knows… My apologies to all Aragorn's fans!

**Disclaimer: **see Prologue and Chapter One.

**Author's Note: **I played a bit with Legolas' age, he is younger, about one hundred years old. And he is more "pure" than usual. And please, keep in mind Sauron is OOC, but some parts of his temper are the same!

**Feedback: **Yes, please! I'd love to know what do you think about my story! But please, be gentle!

Thanks to everybody who r/r, added to favourites, to alerts… I am grateful! And thanks to my Beta-Reader silverfirefox1989!

**To anonymous reviewers:** I answer here because I do not know how to contact you.

Syneline: I think you are the person of the other chapter… thanks for your review, I exactly wanted to write about a different, but not totally besotted Sauron^^

scriobhneoir45: You really made me blush. Really. Thank you. I do not know if there will be more dark parts, but I can tell you there will be a lot of suspense!

Oceansoul: Thank you. It is one of my favourite couples as well. Yes, I read Give me a reason why, as I said in the disclaimer, and it is really a pity the author did not update anymore… it's a great story.

anonymous: Sorry if I answer now... Thanks! I am glad you think my story is cute! Of course I'll continue it, do not worry!

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4. I know what I saw.

Sauron was awakened by the singing of birds outside the window. He opened his eyes lazily. The rays of sunlight were filtering through the curtain and partially lit the room. He was not used to this. The sun never shone in Mordor. There was no light, except that of fire and lava. In addition, there were no living creatures except the Orcs, the Nine, and the Men from Harad. And they were a company in which he could not delight. Certainly, they did not inspire a smile, or a quiet conversation.

In that moment of absolute peace, he felt serene as he had not for a long time. And he realized that he had missed all of this. His heart was so hardened that he could not even remember how to laugh, or just listen to the silence of nature around him. Because simply put, there was nothing alive around him.

He closed his eyes again. It was like being in a dream. And he needed all of this. He needed to find that part of him lost from long time ago, the day that he had allied with Morgoth.

In that instant, he wondered how his future would have been if he had not made that choice. If he had not forged the One Ring.

At that thought, something stirred within him. That constant reminder never left him. No, all of this wonder was not for him. He belonged to the Darkness, and the Ring was just reminding him. He could not go back. He could not, although for a moment he wished to. There was no hope for the Dark Lord. He was the Abhorred. The Free People's enemy. The Valar's enemy.

He reopened his eyes, slowly. This was not his place. What was he thinking when he decided to undertake the journey to Mirkwood? That the Elf would be able to redeem him? That he would have obtained Gods' forgiveness? That he could sail to Valinor, or, had they allowed to him to stay in Middle-Earth, that he could stay without any castigation?

He laughed bitterly. It was all so _unnatural_. At that moment, Sauron wanted to completely close the curtains, to stop that annoying sun filling the room. His eyes were not accustomed to such light all at once. He hated this bright and airy place, these tapestries, those gaudy colors. It was not his world, not anymore. Boredom, in constant expectation for news of the Ring, must have provoked in him the desire to do something new, something different. He felt useless, locked in his tower, always observing the Palanthir to discern the smallest hint of his precious. It was so unnerving, so frustrating! And the thrill of a heart to taint was something exhilarating, something that could shake him from his constant torpor. Yes, Sauron was repeating in his mind, as if to convince himself. It was that, it had to be that. This was a world that he no longer knew the rules of. He knew only corruption, evil, darkness, pain, and fire. He could no longer afford to stay here. How reckless he was! If they had recognised him! How careless! And all just for a little Elf!

He sat on the bed suddenly. He should not have. The sudden movement caused his shoulder to spasm, though the pain was different from that experienced the night before, when he broke the glass. Damned wound! Damned Elves! Damned light!

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"Are you going to visit him?" Estel asked, brows knit together and a frown on his lips.

"Yes, I wanted to bring him clean clothes and something to read. He is most likely terribly bored there, all alone! "Legolas replied cheerfully, looking down at the clothing and the books he held in his arms.

They met in a corridor, but it seemed that the Man was waiting for him.

"I'm sure he is not bored. He will certainly have something to think about," He continued, sharply.

"What do you mean?" the Elf asked, surprised by the tone.

"He is definitely thinking how lucky he is having someone like you take care of him!" The Mortal snapped. "Have you not noticed his gaze upon you?"

"Which gaze?" Legolas whispered with wide eyes.

"Oh, come on! How naive can you be?" Estel said, raising his voice slightly and approaching him. "He wants you, he wants you for himself. You would have noticed it," and he tightened the Elf's arms, bringing his face close to meet the other's gaze. "Is it possible you do not realize the effect you have on people? Must I shut you up in your room and never again let you out in order to keep you all for myself?"

Legolas looked up, startled by that sentence. He swallowed, and doubt took possession of him. Estel would never have done this! Estel would not imprison him within the walls of Gondor Palace, once he became King! The Man knew how he wanted to be free! He knew that Legolas wanted to explore the world! He did not want to see him unhappy! But there he was, saying the opposite.

The Elf looked at him, pained, then lowered his eyes. Estel promised him that he would bring him on one of his adventures, one day. Was he taking his word back?

The Man noticed the effect of his sentence. "Legolas, forgive me, I did not mean to… I was not serious," he exclaimed excitedly, trying to meet his gaze again.

The Elf nodded. "I know, Estel. Now let me go," He murmured uncertainly, with his head still bowed.

Estel loosened his grip and dropped his arms at his sides.

Legolas walked past him, still avoiding looking at him.

The Man abruptly said, "Do not trust him! He is not what he claims to be!"

The Elf turned. "Did you really think I had not noticed? I do not go around blindfolded," he yelled, throwing books and clothing onto the ground. "Stop treating me like a little child!"

"I will if you behave like one! But really Legolas!" Estel snapped impatiently. "You do not even know him and you have offered him refuge! And the story that he told you makes no sense! Who is this mysterious Elf, his Father?"

"He is not obliged to tell me," the blond male cried with high tone.

"Of course he is! He has to explain everything! He has to explain who he is and what, exactly, he was doing so close to the borders of Mirkwood! He is taking advantage of your good heart! Have you not thought that he could be a spy sent by the Dark Lord?" The Man exploded in a fit of rage.

"And have _you_ not thought it is very painful for him to talk about his past? Is it possible you cannot respect his pain?" Legolas said, his voice higher and higher.

"This does not excuse his behavior," Estel burst out.

"He's done nothing wrong," the Elf said.

"Not yet! Legolas, why are you defending him? Is it to spite me or your Father?" The Man asked, in a desperate attempt to make his beloved see reason.

The Elf was silent. He simply bent down to pick up what he had thrown earlier.

"And then there's another thing. His eyes. They were red for a while," The Man continued, making his voice return to a normal volume.

Legolas raised his head and looked at him sceptically. "Estel, now you're exaggerating. It was the reflection of the candle that made you believe it."

"I know what I saw!" The other cut off, again raising his voice. "And I'll get to the bottom of this mystery! King Thranduil should not pay attention to you... he lost his mind!" Estel said, clenching his fists.

"And is it jealousy that makes you like this, or are you finally showing the real you?" Legolas cried, his eyes swollen with tears, before running away, leaving the Man behind him, completely lost.

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A knock, quite insistent, stopped the Dark Lord's thoughts. "Come in," He said in a neutral tone, but with an annoyed expression on his face.

Legolas rushed into the room and closed the door behind him. He remained motionless and trembling against it, with sad eyes, as if he were on the verge of tears.

"What happened?" Sauron said, frowning, his voice still neutral.

The Elf shook his head. He tried to say 'nothing', but from his lips came a choked sob.

'_What should I do now?_' Sauron wondered to himself. Legolas was certainly saddened by something and he assumed the Elf had come to him to be consoled. But the Dark Lord had no idea how to act. He had never tried, nor he have ever thought he would need to. But the young male was there, in need of help. And he did not know how to behave. He was just staring at the blond, blankly. Why should he help him, then? Had he not just cursed the whole Elven Race?

But that gorgeous and stunning creature was in front of his eyes, defenceless, and he could not imagine anyone who dared to make him cry. To see him so vulnerable, trembling, made the Dark Lord deeply shaken. And in that moment, Sauron understood what that pain at his chest he experienced the night before was. It was his _heart_, warning him that it had awakened from a long slumber.

Without realizing it, the Dark Lord raised his arms, welcoming him. And Legolas, for the second time, threw down the clothes and the books he had brought and ran toward him, holding him strong. Sauron's eyes widened. The Elf was now against his chest. Softly he closed the embrace, his palms against the other's back. He was completely unable to say or think anything. How long had it been since he last held someone! Certainly never so tenderly. Had he ever done so, then? He could not remember.

Legolas's body was shaking with trembles and sobs. He looked so fragile in that instant. Sauron passed his hand gently on his back, a smooth motion from the neck to the shoulders and back again.

What was going on? Was he really comforting the younger male? Was the Dark Lord really comforting someone? He, who had sworn revenge on all the people of Middle-Earth?

But, having this elf, helpless, and close against him, made him forget everything. He himself could not believe what was happening. But it was _happening_.

He closed his eyes, savouring that moment. Finally, his wish was fulfilled. His patience was rewarded.

He paused, then, to enjoy Legolas' beauty. His scent was heady. He smelled of flowers and honey, and it was invading Sauron like a drug he needed to have more of. That body, pressed against his own, was the sweetest aphrodisiac. The fine, silky hair was twisting through his fingers, as if it would tie them forever, while he was passing his hand over his blond head. He could feel the Elf's breath against his bare shoulder, which was irregular and interrupted by sobs. He also felt wetness on his skin from Legolas' tears, which flowed copiously from his deep blue eyes.

And Sauron remembered why he had done all this. He understood that it was worth it.

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They stayed so long in silence. Legolas was calming down, little by little. His body was no longer shaken by trembles as before. Slowly, the Elf broke from the hug. His eyes were puffy and red. At the sight Sauron again found the feelings that he had thought lost. The younger male had the power to awaken emotions in him that had been buried. The Dark Lord was grateful to him. He felt alive again, as if he had slept for his entire life.

Naturally, as if he had done so before, he put his hand on the Elf's cheek and gently, with his thumb, wiped those tears.

Legolas gave him back a wet smile. "Sorry..."

Sauron shook his head. "Do not apologize, my young friend. It was something you needed, right?"

The Elf nodded, so the other went on. "And who am I, to deny a little hug to my savior?" He said lightly.

"Thanks..." Legolas whispered softly.

"It was nothing. Now, tell me something. Why did you come to me?" the other asked.

The blond male bowed his head. "I did not know where... I did not know where else to go... I acted instinctively..."

Sauron smiled. His instinct was against all others'. The Elf was the only one who trusted him. He was the only one who could see something good in him. But was there actually anything good left?

He recovered from his thoughts and continued, "What happened to you, my young friend?"

Legolas shook his head. "Nothing... nothing important. Only a little fight with Estel."

Sauron raised an eyebrow. "Ah, I see. I hope you have not fought because of me..."

The Elf was silent. And his silence was an affirmation.

"I'm sorry." Sauron started. "But you have no reason to argue. You know I'll go away when I'm better. And if it makes your Estel, or your father, more comfortable, I will promise not to leave this room and discover your secrets," he ended the sentence with a smile.

Legolas nodded. "Thank you, but it is not you, it was him being unfair about you! You do not have to remain a prisoner of this room... not like..." but he stopped. The thought was still a pain.

"Yes?" Sauron encouraged him.

"No, nothing. Estel said... said he wants to lock me up, to have me all to himself..." Legolas whispered, shivering.

"I am sure he was not serious," Sauron said. After, he added, "I'd like to do it as well, or rather my human side wants to, if I were your mate," Sauron admitted, catching the Elf's upset look. Then he went on. "But I would not, you would be locked up as a bird in a cage. Estel was probably very afraid of losing you and he is only jealous. Men's minds think in a different way from the Elves'. I am sure that he would never see you unhappy." Yes, it was the best way to speak. If he offended Estel at that moment, Sauron would have been in the wrong and the Elf would certainly defend his mate. So, instead little Legolas would go to the Man to praise his good qualities, his kindness, while his companion had insulted a person who could not even defend himself.

Legolas, meanwhile, nodded weakly. Deep down, he knew that somehow, things would be thus. Once King, Estel would be taken from him by the business of Gondor and he would move into the background. The Elf could not blame him, of course. But there would have remained nothing for him to do but wander around in pain among the corridors of the Palace, waiting to beg for a crumb of his attention. He would be a prisoner within those choking walls, dreaming of faraway and never seen places, dreaming of the sea. And once that Estel was dead, he would continue to walk around Middle-Earth, full of pain, waiting to fade. But he was not afraid of death, and he could not be selfish, preventing the Man from doing his duty. Legolas loved him and he would do anything for him.

But the thought to move from one prison to another, subconsciously tormented him. Instead, Golwen was free... the Elf shook his fair head. But what was he thinking? Then, suddenly, Estel's words came back to his memory.

"He told me... that you want me as well..." he whispered in complete embarrassment. But how he could say so?

"Did he?" Sauron muttered quietly, in a neutral tone. "Legolas," he sighed. He decided to answer with the truth. He must be sincere, at least in this. "I do not hide to feeling attracted to you... how could I not be? You are beautiful, and you have a purity that I did not believe existed on this Earth. You are kind and intelligent, and you have a charm that comes from your heart. Anyone would be affected by you, I believe. But it does not mean anything, because you belong to another male. You saved my life, and a deep sense of gratitude will bind me to you forever. You're so young and enthusiastic about everything that you do not know... and maybe that's why you feel so intrigued by me... I am a novelty, like nothing you've ever known. I am the mysterious stranger with a painful past behind him, who has seen the world and has scoured every inch. But do not idealize me, Legolas. You would be disappointed, I fear." Yes, it was the right sentence. Forcing him would be useless. He was still bound to Estel. The Dark Lord would wait until he had come of his own volition into his arms. Step by step... and the Elf would be his.

Legolas smiled faintly. "I'm not idealizing you," He said simply. He hoped that the other had not realized how he had been pleased by his words.

Sauron returned his smile and cocked his head sideways. "Well, I believe you." Then he asked, "So when did you meet Estel?"

"About sixty-five years ago." the Elf replied.

The other's eyes widened. "No, it's impossible! He does not show more than forty years!" But then, he paused and put his hand to his own chin. "Unless… a Dúnadan...?"


	6. We could not be more dissimilar

**Warnings: **Slash! Sauron a bit OOC. What if. Slightly AU.

**Disclaimer: **see Prologue and Chapter One.

**Author's Note: **I played a bit with Legolas' age, he is younger, about one hundred years old. And he is more "pure" than usual. And please, keep in mind Sauron is OOC, but some parts of his temper are the same!  
**Changed the rating from T to M!**

**Feedback: **Yes, please! I'd love to know what do you think about my story! But please, be gentle!

Thanks to everybody who r/r, added to favourites, to alerts… I am grateful! And thanks to my Beta-Reader silverfirefox1989!

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5. We could not be more dissimilar.

Legolas nodded to the question.

A Dúnadan ... this changed everything. Sauron had been chasing Isildur's heir for so long, and he was now one step away from him. Certainly, Estel had to know the future King of Gondor's identity. After such a long wait, here's the answer. Finally he would kill his most deadly enemy. He could still remember the feeling he had when Isildur had snatched his Ring. He felt cut in half, as if a part of his soul had been taken away. And now, he had the opportunity to avenge himself. Once his successor died, his vengeance would be complete, and the last Hope of Men and Elves would vanish.

Hope... the name "Estel" meant hope. Was it possible that he had Isildur's Heir before his eyes without realizing it? He had imagined someone different, someone better. Estel did not look like a King. He was dressed in precious clothes, he had a solemn demeanour, a kind face. But he was not a King, he did not behave like one. He seemed like someone who wanted to sneak in the shadows like a thief, rather than have all the attention on himself. Sauron had realized it, because the Mortal wanted to avoid openly showing his tie with Legolas. Another Man would have gladly accepted everyone's admiration and envy, and would have raised the Elf as a trophy. But he remained silent in a corner. Sure, there was no hesitation in effusions, during their first meeting, but only because he considered Sauron as a threat and he felt the need to mark his territory. But what if it was Estel's trick to conceal his true identity? After all, he had spent his whole life trying to hide from Sauron, fearing his spies everywhere. It was natural for that Man to have such secrecy. Yet he could not. In short, why should he be afraid of Estel? A person who seemed of such low value?

No, he would ask his questions at the right time, when he would have to reveal who the true King of Gondor was. And if he were, then Sauron would feel even more pleasure in exacting his vengeance.

Sauron interrupted the thoughts racing through his mind, and asked, "Why is his name Elvish?"

"Because he was raised by Elves, in Imladris," Legolas said with a smile.

Elrond...yes. That Elf seemed determined to stop him in any way. In the past, during the War against the Last Alliance. Now, giving asylum to a Dúnadan.

"And does Estel come here often to visit you?" Sauron asked.

"No, not often. He came only to bring a prisoner," Legolas said, then he bit his lip. He had spoken too much.

Sauron raised an eyebrow. "What prisoner?"

Legolas shook his head. "Nothing important..."

"I thought your people did not take prisoners," the other male insisted.

"It 's so, but this one had to be kept alive," the young Elf murmured.

"Like me?" Sauron said.

"Do not compare yourself to him ... your cases are completely different," Legolas whispered.

"Well, let me know if I am destined to the dark cells of Mirkwood," he said.

"Of course you're not," the Elf muttered.

The talk was so quick that Sauron needed a moment to reorganize his thoughts. A prisoner to keep alive? Be questioned? Be preserved? It seemed interesting, and worth more. But he decided not to investigate any further. The Elf looked uncomfortable, and would probably not reveal any other information, at least for now. Moreover, if he insisted too much, Legolas might get suspicious. He would not subjugate him to get information. He wanted it all real between them.

Sauron sighed and glanced at the floor. "Those were for me?" He asked, pointing to clothing and books that lay forgotten on the carpet.

The Elf nodded and rushed to collect them. "Yes, I thought you'd be bored here, all alone ... and that it was not decent to leave you without tunic and cut leggings," he ended with embarrassment, approaching and putting the books on the nightstand.

"You are kind," Sauron said, extending a hand to take the offered clothes.

They were of Elven make, not decorated as Legolas', of course, but he was a Prince. They were still very beautiful, dark green leggings and a slightly lighter tunic. The colors of Mirkwood.

Legolas looked down and went near the window. He remained turned to give the other male a bit of privacy while changing his clothes.

Sauron could not suppress a grin, while pushing away the blanket and slowly rose.

He kept the weight on his uninjured leg, and clung to the bedpost so he would not lose his balance, and began to take off his leggings, showing his backside.

He wondered whether the Elf was watching him, but judging by a strong emotion like a hot flash, he thought so. He grinned again. Apparently, little Legolas was too much curious.

He took the new leggings off of the bed, turned slowly, and then sat down.

The Elf must have suddenly turned to the window, because when Sauron glanced at him, he seemed intent on the view.

He put the leggings at his thighs and stood up again, taking care not to carry the weight on the wound leg. He finished putting them on and closed the laces. It was extremely frustrating to do everything with two limbs less.

"You'll have to give me a hand with that," Sauron said, pointing to the tunic on the bed. "I still cannot move my arm well."

"Yes, of course," the Elf whispered, turning red in his face and rushed to his side.

He took the tunic and unbuttoned it. Then, the young male went behind him and slowly began to slip the tunic on by Sauron's arms.

Finally, he went in front of him and gently gathered the edges of fabric together to button them.

Legolas was so close ... he kept looking down, concentrating on the buttons, his cheeks still pink. Sauron, at that moment, wished he was caressing his cheeks. That color, incredible to say, made the Elf's face even more charming.

He wanted to bring his own face, lift the young male's chin and touching his lips with his own. But then he would want more.

Fortunately, the trousers were loose enough not to show any change in his body, Sauron thought.

His hand moved involuntarily. It rose slowly, and it was approaching the Elf's cheek. Two fingers brushed the fair skin. It was so silky to his touch.

Legolas lifted his head up, looking at him quizzically, and the Dark Lord instantly lowered his arm. Those blue eyes had brought him to reality and he felt his excitement suddenly decrease. He saw the scene change. He saw the two of them fall on the bed, as before, but also saw Legolas struggling to push him away with his slender hands, terrified, but Sauron kept going because he had gone too far to stop. He felt disgusted with himself. He did not want Legolas fearing his touch. He did not want to scare him. He did not want to make all his efforts fruitless. He wanted to have his heart, as well as his body.

"Thanks," Then he muttered, looking away.

"It was nothing," The Elf said, a few steps away and looking Golwen from head to foot. "Now you look like a resident of Mirkwood!" He exclaimed.

"No, I never will be," Sauron said, smiling before he bridged the distance between them limping. Then he drew a lock of black hair to the other male's golden mane. "Look. We could not be more dissimilar."

"They ... they are beautiful," Legolas whispered smiling softly.

Sauron sensed a turmoil in the Elf's heart. Fear? Shame? Desire? He could not decipher.

The Dark Lord was unsure whether Legolas was scared. But he was careful not to be rude this time, to keep a calm tone of voice. His behaviour was surprising himself. Therefore, he hoped that Legolas was not scared.

The Elf's embarrassment was pretty obvious. He avoided his gaze, trying to keep a certain distance. But why? Because Legolas had seen him naked? Or because Sauron had touched his cheek?

As for desire... Sauron could not give an answer. It was clear that he was not a completely repugnant sight, but what did Legolas think of his appearance?

So, no longer able to hold back his interest, he said, "Something troubles you, my young friend?"

The Elf shook his head, "No, I... it is because," he stammered, impatient. "I'm not used... only Estel... stays... so close to me," he lied. He could not tell Golwen that he was embarrassed because he had seen him naked in secret! Or worse, because...

Sauron raised his eyebrows and tried to maintain a calm tone, "We were not doing anything wrong, you just helped a poor wounded person to dress. Forget it."

Legolas nodded. Slowly he looked up and crossed his gaze with Sauron's, as if seeking further reassurance.

The Elf began to wonder if Estel was not right. When Golwen had brushed his cheek, he felt his skin catch on fire. He wanted to take Golwen's hand in his own, and begin to taste those fingers one by one in his mouth, leaving his tongue twisting between them like a spiral... Why that sudden gesture? And most importantly, why did something so simple cause that reaction in Legolas?

He had also turned to observe the Half-Elf changing his clothes... why? He was so confused and embarrassed! He was in love with Estel! But then, why did it seem like he had cheated on him? Why did he feel the desire to look at another male?

Legolas thought suddenly of that naked body. Golwen had a skin so smooth and pale as milk. When he touched it to change his bandages, he had felt his softness. A chill shot through him as he proceeded to mentally to retrace each line of that body.

Those arms, with hints of muscles. Those shoulders, so broad and strong, ending in a waist thinner than his own.

And then, when Golwen removed his leggings, he felt his lips dry up and the urgency to lick them with his tongue. He remembered how much he had fought himself, undecided whether to continue watching or turn around. In the end, he gave in and chose the first option.

The view was amazing. The cloth had slipped away, and had released long, sinuous legs. When Golwen bent down to take the new leggings, his buttocks had pushed out slightly, highlighting how solid they should be. At that point, Legolas felt his leggings get tighter, and he thanked the Valar for choosing to wear a large tunic that reached his knees.

Afterwards, he had suddenly turned around to avoid detection. But he found out he did it with great reluctance. He wanted to continue watching, and make every detail, every little curve of Golwen's body just his. He moved with grace, despite his injuries.

His body was so different from Estel's. He was beautiful, sure, but Golwen was smooth and slender, more like the Elves' aesthetics, being half-elven, and solid for his human part, Legolas supposed.

The young male imagined how he would feel to be encircled by those arms without layers and layers of clothes to separate them. He saw it in his mind, while Golwen embraced him, and he relished the contact with white skin and rested his own head on Golwen's chest, listening to his heart beating. And he thought about how nice it would be to have those hands slide along his body, making way through the clothes, slowly driving him insane and wanting more and more of his caresses... after, feeling that touch down at his sides, first gentle, then vigorous ... and suddenly feeling his strong grip on his buttocks... Legolas shook his head furiously. He could not go further, he loved Estel!

But it was not just that ... a few more moments of those greedy thoughts, and he would beg Golwen to take him instantly. He could not resist this feeling of dissatisfaction... but he decided to calm down. He had to calm down. He could not afford the Half-Elf to notice his reaction. It would have been too obvious that Legolas had spied him.

He prayed with all his might that Golwen had not realized it. He would certainly be angered by this violation of privacy.

And when the Half-Elf was so close, the young male was troubled, as if afraid of ever saying or doing the wrong thing. But it was quite logical, he admitted. The only people he did not follow the etiquette of the Court with were his family and Estel. And sometimes even with them he could not abstain.

Golwen, however, was so free from all that stiffness. And he was right, they could not be more dissimilar, not only for hair color. Then, he seemed not afraid to contradict him. He seemed the only one willing to really listen to the Elf.

Even Estel, in his rush of wanting to protect him always, sometimes was suffocating. And after the speech this morning ... but Legolas drove back the thought. The Man was not serious, he knew. Yet part of his heart doubted.

He took a deep breath and changed the subject abruptly. He could not dwell on those ideas. "Are you hungry?"

"Not much," Sauron said, sitting on the bed. The Elf's sudden change had slightly unbalanced him.

"It would be better if you make the effort, otherwise you will never recover your strength. I remind you that you're hurt and have lost blood. I'll bring you something," Legolas said in a dismissive tone.

Sauron nodded. "Very well, I'll eat, but later."

Legolas smiled faintly. "I would stay, but I must go... I cannot miss the breakfast with my family..."

"I understand, do not worry. Go, I'll know how to pass the time. The books you have brought me will keep me company," Sauron said softly, returning his smile.

Then, the Elf walked away and went out the room.


End file.
